Glory of the Night
by ProteusAlucard
Summary: Continuation of the anime story, set 3 months after Incognito's death. Integra is still bound in the Bloody Tower, and the only "living" members of Hellsing left to her are Alucard and Seras. Will have several Chapters. Please R&R!
1. Children of Darkness

Disclaimer: I do not Hellsing. Hellsing belongs to whatever wonderful human being created it (I salute you!). Please don't sue.  
  
A/N: This fanfic is based solely on the anime, as I have not yet seen the manga (though I have it reserved when it comes out here in English) so don't expect any appearance of the Millennium Organization thing to appear in this story. Thank you for reading! Please review!  
  
Chapter One: Children of Darkness  
  
"The night has come, the time when all children of darkness rise, the time when all the inhibitions of the day can be laid waste by those who would be forever free of the flimsy bindings of the light. Such pretensions are without use in this world. Between light and darkness, there exists only the most frail and fragile of inhibitions, and I have long since let those pass."  
  
Seras Victoria looked upon her master with the slightest, most indistinguishable of grins. He had always been so candidly mysterious around her, explaining concepts that were, to her, as odd and complicated as any subject could possibly be as if they had not the slightest trick to them.  
  
"You are confused, Police Girl?" He grinned. He was prone to that as well, seeking every imaginable opportunity to flash his elongated canines, the truest sign of the vampire. "You have not yet been a child of death long enough to understand the true difference between light and darkness."  
  
"Yeah, right", she thought. She very much doubted that she would ever understand. "Master-?"  
  
"Yes, Police Girl?" His grin spread a bit further upon his countenance, not comically, of course, but far more smugly than any human would dare.  
  
"How long have you, er, been 'a child of death'?"  
  
"Hmmm. . . long enough, Police Girl." He raised himself upon his feet, and, still grinning, disappeared into darkness.  
  
"'Long enough'? How. . . how very. . . Oh just forget it, Seras." She looked out over the landscape. She was standing upon the mighty clock tower, affectionately known as Big Ben. She'd forgotten how she had gotten so high up. Staring across the platform to where her master, Alucard, had stood only moments before, she silently cursed him for leaving her there.  
  
"What's this, Police Girl?" Alucard whispered, apparently from within Seras' own head. "A vampire afraid of heights? Come now, such things are very unbecoming, and I would think that a former Policewoman would have developed more nerve. . ." He laughed softly. Seras could almost feel him smile again.  
  
"Master, what do you expect me to do, then? It's not like I have wings. . ." She felt very, very ignorant. After all, hadn't her master disappeared out of thin air two minutes ago? Certainly he could help her do the same.  
  
"I think I'll leave you to figure this one out on your own, Police Girl. . ." Thusly, with one last amused chuckle, did Seras Victoria know she was not destined for any help on this night.  
  
"That, that. . . Oh, of all the bloody. . . " She sighed, then set off in search of a flight of stairs.  
  
**  
Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing looked about her tiny, mortar brick cell disdainfully. How had she ever gotten herself put here? And more importantly, why? Was she locked away for safekeeping? The queen's men had stated that the Judas had been punished. Then indeed, why would she still be under guard, locked away in a dungeon, left to rot?  
  
"What crime have I committed?" She asked again. No answer. The Bloody Tower's walls were thick, as she had come to know. She had been sitting in this cell for months, for whatever reason. No one had bothered to tell her. Not that it mattered anymore.  
  
"You do not see the irony, Master?" Stepping from the shadows, Alucard emerged, quizzical and mysterious as ever. He looked at her through his orange sunglasses. She could not see his eyes.  
  
Integra sighed. "Of course I see it, Alucard. I do not, however, see the reason behind it."  
  
"Cannot the irony be justification enough, Master?" He grinned.  
  
"Why would Her Majesty do such a thing, Alucard? Amusement?" She stood, and made an attempt to move her arms, which did not spread far apart at all. She was suddenly reminded that she was bound, however cutely and uselessly, by small white leather cuffs. They were more for her benefit than anything else. What other means could remind her so frequently that she was a prisoner?  
  
"You realize, that if you desired it, you could be free of this place, don't you?" He backed into the shadows again, resting his palm against the far wall. Grinning ever broader, he let his hand pass through it. "It is, as it has always been, your choice."  
  
Integra sighed again, this time allowing a ghost of a smile to spread upon her lips. "I know, Alucard."  
  
"Then why do you not take the opportunity? I will never understand it."  
  
"I will await Her Majesty's judgement."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You cannot understand, Alucard. I serve the crown, this Protestant country, and nothing else. I have been bound by those I serve. That is all there is."  
  
Alucard let his grin flatten out, and he waited a moment, in thought. Then suddenly he smirked again. "Your Queen did not herself bind you, did she, Master? You do not serve those who keep you here?"  
  
Integra reflected a moment. The Queen herself had not sent her here, had she? She smiled. "She did not, I suppose."  
  
"Then free yourself, Master."  
  
"Is it really so easy, Alucard?"  
  
He paused again, and sighed. "Run from this place, Master."  
  
"You didn't answer me, Alucard."  
  
"Death is the only easy thing in this world."  
  
Integra sighed. "I'm sorry, Alucard."  
  
"Then you will not join me tonight?"  
  
"No."  
  
Alucard shrugged. "Then this night will not be as perfect as it should be." He turned from Integra, and walked through the wall.  
  
Integra sat upon her bed again. Staring about the room, she let her eyes rest upon a bottle of wine that sat upon the modest table her captors had provided. It reminded her of something, but she couldn't quite tell what it was.  
  
The cell on that first night. . . Green concrete bricks, a simple wineglass upon the table. . . A bottle of wine resting in a bowl of ice, its contents red, red as blood. . . Alucard, in his beautiful blood red jacket that fell about his ankles, old in style and yet so new. . . He was grinning, picking up the wineglass. . .  
  
"The choice is yours," he whispers, at which he crushes the glass, the red wine pouring over his gloved hand and onto the floor like so much blood. . . dripping finally, the last remnants of the glass seeming to drip with them. . . A tiny pool of blood-wine at his feet. . .  
Alucard offering her his blood. . . Just a taste, just a taste of his blood, and she'd become more than she could ever possibly have imagined. . . She was strong, for a human. . .  
Had she taken him up on it yet? Why not? Where was the hesitation coming from? You can't imagine, wouldn't understand, just how much stronger you could become. . . just how much better, faster, wiser. . . If only you would see. . .  
Just a taste. . .  
  
"Alucard!" she shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"  
  
From the ceiling, slowly and deliberately, Alucard's head emerged. He was grinning again. "Showing you what you need to see, Master."  
  
"You will not intrude in my mind again unless I specifically tell you to, understand?" She grimaced. She wished she hadn't said that.  
  
"Specifically tell me to?" Alucard laughed. His elongated canines seemed especially apparent now. "Does that mean, Master, that you will ask for it eventually? Just as you will eventually partake of my blood?"  
  
Integra fell silent. Then, slovenly, she lifted her head to where she could see Alucard's. She wondered for a moment if he was remaining in the room.  
  
He was still there, waiting patiently for her response. His sunglasses were off now, and he was staring at her through his crimson pupils. His hair fell around his face, and it occluded his left eye. But Integra could still feel it upon her. It was looking inside her again.  
  
"Your strength is beyond that of any normal human, Master." He smiled broadly.  
  
"Alucard, what is it that you're looking for now? Am I really that amusing?"  
  
"I wish to see why you are strong, Master. Take it," he chuckled, "as a compliment."  
  
"Cute."  
  
"Then will you taste my blood, before I leave?" He was still looking inside her.  
  
She sighed. She didn't mind this intrusion as much. "Eventually, Alucard." She smiled, and deliberately let her voice grow harsh and cold. "But not tonight, understand?"  
  
"Yours, O Queen, is the task of determining your wishes." He smiled. "Mine is the right to obey orders." With this, he withdrew his head from the ceiling, and was gone again.  
  
**  
The mighty Paladin Alexander Anderson shuddered as his breath caught the London air. He despised the city, the whole country for that matter. "Nothing but a crowd of sinners unworthy of the Grace of God", he mused with a smile. He looked about him, his eyes falling on each person standing before him, sure that when the Time of Judgment were at hand, each and every one of them would come to realize their mistake.  
  
He strode forward onto the sidewalk, feeling that with every footfall his purification might be felt upon the poor ungodly land, which might as well have been true.  
  
Hellsing had been wiped off the face of the earth, gone for three months now, and as such, the Vatican's Section Thirteen, Iscariot, had free rein over all of England. Anderson could hunt and dispose of the filthy demon- kin and their ghouls without a single word of resistance from that mongrel Hellsing or her pet Vampire.  
  
Anderson stopped for a moment, the smile that had developed on his face flattening. "The Vampire," he whispered, "Alucard."  
  
That problem still loomed over the Godly Knight's head, seemingly taunting him in every moment of strength. The immortal demon seemed to defy all logic, would never stop hunting and feeding, and, quite frankly, did not stay dead for long. He, not Anderson, still had his filthy bloodstained hands wrapped around this country's borders. He had been the one that had destroyed that true undead demon, Incognito. Not Anderson.  
  
Though to be fair Anderson had never had his shot. Such things could be rectified in the future. All that had to be accomplished was the removal of the fabled no-life king, and Anderson felt certain that he could-  
  
Anderson stiffened, his nostrils slightly flaring. "Speak of the devil," he began, taking a short second sniff. "No", he decided, "not Alucard." It was something else. He glanced all about him, in every direction. His eyes settled upon two dingy looking street bums, each in an aging black trench coat. Anderson wondered for a moment if he should just disregard the pair as street urchins with a foul smell, but then he thought better of it. The pair, he noted, walked too upright and proud to be proper poor retches. The smell, also, was not of human origin.  
  
He could not in actuality see their faces especially clearly, however. Still, he mused, if he could see them as they were he knew that two pairs of glittering teeth might stare out at him hungrily. He smiled, baring his own slightly elongated and sharp teeth.  
  
Anderson decided to follow them until he could be absolutely sure that he could dispose of them without much notice. He fell in step roughly twenty meters behind them, hoping that they would dodge into an alley or something so that he might do what was necessary of him.  
  
He noted that one of them was especially tall, lanky, perhaps even similar to Anderson in build. The other was much shorter. Anderson was not too concerned with that one. He could smell weakness on it. The other, however, was of a different sort. Anderson smiled. He knew this had the potential to be a very enjoyable night.  
  
"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," came his familiar prayer. "Amen."  
  
Next Chapter: Blood, Bones, and the Regenerator  
  
Anderson discovers the identities of these two patrons of the night, another visit to Integra in her cell, and Seras gets off the giant clock! Oh, and Alucard makes an appearance as well. ^.^  
  
Enjoy! Please R&R! 


	2. Blood, Bones, and the Regenerator

Disclaimer: I still don't own Hellsing. Don't sue, because if you do, you'll take away all the money I have to spend on it! ^.^ We don't want that!!  
  
A/N: thanks very much to all of you that have read and reviewed at this point, and a special thank you to Pokkie for pointing out my error! It has been fixed! Do enjoy and please review!  
  
Chapter Two: Blood, Bones, and the Regenerator  
  
Anderson, by some miraculous stroke of luck, did not have to wait long for his prey to make its turn into the alley. The Priest praised God for his good fortune, a slightly manic grin spreading over his countenance as he did so.  
  
"This shouldn't take long," he whispered to himself.  
  
It did not take Anderson much time before he too turned into the corridor. He took measure of the locale for a moment, stopping just inside the entrance.  
  
The space was narrow, which was not of much surprise to Anderson, but the lack of room was accentuated by the filth and clutter strewn about the ground. There seemed quite the abundance of discarded newspaper, old beer bottles, and even a few hypodermic needles. It would not have shocked Anderson to see an old man defecating on himself just a few meters away, but, thankfully, Anderson had been spared that marvelous decorum. He placed his hand above the cross dangling from his neck.  
  
The passage was nearly forty meters deep, and the buildings on either side both had entrances within a few steps of the Priest.  
  
Anderson spat, taking careful note of the fact that his prey was nowhere to be found. He strode forward, searching for the scent of his prey that he had picked up earlier, frowning as he detected none of it. He wandered past the first of the doors, paying it little mind. At this time of night, Anderson reckoned, any decent business would have all of their entrances locked, and since there was no sign of a break in, his prey obviously had not fled within.  
  
The second door, similarly, showed no signs of abuse. He continued beyond it.  
  
The Knight of God stopped at the end of the alley, looking upward above the building for some clue as to where those he had pursued had gone. Morosely he decided they had not scaled the wall. He cursed himself, knowing they had lost him.  
  
"Do not be so glum, Father," a distinctly Slavic voice called from behind him.  
  
Anderson wheeled around, knocking his right elbow against the concrete wall of the adjacent building. Before him, proud and erect, was the taller of the two inhuman things he had followed. The other was nowhere to be seen. However, just as Anderson had thought, a pair of sharp teeth were apparent in the monster's mouth.  
  
"You wonder where my companion has gone?" The thing snickered, arms folded across his chest. They were thick beneath the coat, muscular. From what Anderson could see beneath the coat, the whole body of the demon before him possessed an abnormal amount of sinew.  
  
"Foul thing," came Anderson's reply, "I shall wipe you from the face of this earth."  
  
"Ah, Catholic, I see. That does explain a lot." He unfolded his arms, letting them fall at his side. "Even without the cross dangling from your neck, or the overdone manner of your dress, or even that collar, I could see it on you."  
  
Anderson opened his coat, allowing his Holy Seals to fly outward, laughing as they attached themselves to each of the building's walls. Within moments the entire alley was decorated with them. There would be no foul arts spoiling this fight.  
  
The demon shrugged. "So the magician shows the first of his parlor tricks." He took a step forward, his movement somewhat hampered by the confined space. "Might I make an enquiry as to the lapdog's name?"  
  
The Holy Knight stiffened at the all too familiar phrase. "How dare you insult the representative of God?"  
  
"You sniffed us out, Almighty Poodle."  
  
Anderson suppressed a smile. He most certainly had never been called that before. "God's will be done, you and your cohort will not see the next full moon."  
  
"You won't find her," the vampire stiffened.  
  
Anderson smiled, noting he had struck a nerve. "And where were you hiding?"  
  
The demon relaxed slightly, and strode forward until he was beside the first of the doors. Smiling with superiority, he gripped the doorknob, turned it, and the door swung open.  
  
Anderson had the sudden urge to swear.  
  
**  
"God dammit!" the former leader of Hellsing shouted. She was beginning to recollect how little there was to do when Alucard was gone. Boredom crept in upon her, her only recourse from it being the neatly arranged meal resting upon the table in the middle of the room.  
  
She wanted a cigar.  
  
They had taken those from her as well, along with her pride and dignity. She'd live longer, they said, confined as she was with no social interaction with any living being whatsoever, lacking that peculiar comfort the cigars seemed to provide. The hypocrisy startled her.  
  
She stood and paced around her room for a little while, arms resting in front of her, bound by those contemptible cuffs. The guards outside only released her from that indignity early in the mornings when she was allowed to bathe. At all other times, she was doomed to suffer the ignominious fate of their pull.  
  
A cigar would do her some good, she decided.  
  
Still pacing, she looked over her room in what had become an all too familiar pattern: Floor, bed, ceiling, chair, table. All were present, she confirmed. The floor was the same green concrete as each of the walls, the same as the ceiling. It communicated the purpose of its design, namely confinement. The bed seemed exceptionally small and cramped enclosed in its corner. The chair, neatly pushed against the table, served to hide, to some extent, the wine bottle and meal laid upon the table's surface.  
  
Everything within the room looked exactly as it did every day and every evening as well. There never were any discrepancies in its setting, never any new furniture or decorations. There was no place for work, and no tools for that purpose either. The only source of amusement Integra possessed was fixed behind her eyes, and at the moment there was ever so precious little on which to think.  
  
She had been over everything a thousand times, and there existed no possible new takes on her situation. To try would, ultimately, be depressing. And the leader of Hellsing did not get depressed. She was too proud for that. She could become enraged and bitter, of course; she was prone to do that, but sulking? No, that was not her way. Well, not most of the time.  
  
She yearned for the time of Hellsing's dominance, the time when she could easily send a hundred men out into the country and every one of them would come back alive, their prey dead and the evidence of their existence wiped away.  
  
The Master pulled the chair back from the quaint dining table and sat. She sighed, whispering, "Alucard, you'd better come back with a cigar. . . "  
  
**  
It had taken three hours, but Seras Victoria had finally clambered down the tower. Her knees ached with every step, and her feet felt swollen within her boots. Whatever pride her blood now provided her was subverted by a whimper.  
  
"Master," she whined, "why couldn't you tell me how to disappear already?"  
  
She winced, expecting a reproach from her Master, but she soon realized that he was not apparently listening. She kicked at the ground, a slight melancholy coming over her. She did not have anyone to whom she could speak freely anymore, she realized. Helena had passed on months ago. Her Master did not listen, only finding time to prod her or reproach her, giving her tiny clues that she did not know how to use. He was possibly the most dislikable person imaginable, but still, she respected him. In fact, she probably respected Alucard more than any other living being.  
  
She smiled, a tiny comfort invading her.  
  
"I would remind you, Police Girl," the resonating voice of her Master echoed from behind her, "I am not a living being."  
  
Seras stiffened, slowly turning herself around to face her master, her cheeks suddenly flashing red. He emerged from a shadow slowly. "Were you listening, Master?" she asked.  
  
The vampire flashed her a smile. "I'm always listening."  
  
Seras eye twitched slightly. "What brings you out here, Master?" Her voice betrayed a slight annoyance.  
  
Alucard's smile faded. "Haven't you noticed, Police Girl?" He folded his arms. "Your sense has not developed as far as I had hoped."  
  
Seras frowned, noting that her master had set to prodding again. She relaxed, breathing through her nose as her father had always taught her to do when-  
There was a trace of something foul in the air. She looked at her master imploringly.  
  
"The air betrays the presence of the dog," he uttered, his smile somewhat restored.  
  
Seras flinched. "You mean Anderson?" Seras unconsciously felt along her neck, tracing her finger along the scar.  
  
"Exactly, Police Girl."  
  
"But. . . But you've beaten him before. . . So why do you seem so. . . so troubled?"  
  
"He is not my chief concern."  
  
Seras cocked her eyebrow, a trace of awe in her eyes.  
  
Alucard turned from his student to face the clock tower. He sighed heavily, the slightest trace of anticipation discernable within. "So, Police Girl? Do you want to come along?" He held his hand back towards her. "Or should I go alone?"  
  
**  
Paladin Alexander Anderson, the regenerator, man of god, felt as though he might collapse, his body mangled and broken. He clutched at his blessed blades, clenching his teeth as pain flooded his arms. He raised them again, standing to his full height, crossing his weapons across his chest.  
  
The monster walked toward him casually, not quite six meters away. All along his arms, now exposed as his coat had been cast aside, were bleeding cuts and stab wounds. His chest betrayed a few of these as well. His legs had not escaped either, and his dark khaki pants were soaked through with blood. However, the demon still wore a smile across his lips.  
  
"Again," he began, "the dog bares its teeth." The vampire cracked his knuckles.  
  
Anderson reflected over the fight as it had progressed in his mind. The Knight had certainly not been terribly outmatched at the onset, but conversely, his advantage had been minimal. The seals had turned out to be an utter waste, as it had become apparent that the vampire did not need to fight with dark magic.  
  
No, this one was built on pure speed and muscle.  
  
Anderson had sliced through the hide of the demon quite a few times in the course of the fight, but it had displayed a talent for ignoring pain that Anderson had only ever seen in one other being.  
  
But this one did not fight as Hellsing's pet abomination.  
  
This demon, this vampire, did not use any man-made weapon. He did not use any weapon at all, rather parrying Anderson's thrusts with his own flesh, most often that of its hands. Despite all of Anderson's efforts, the monster's wrists and palms were not cut at all. The especially augmented fingers on each hand were clean. They might as well have been made of stainless steel. They were offensive in addition to being defensive, however.  
  
At every opening this vampire had ripped at Anderson, and at this point the blood began spurting out in thick blotches from his wounds. There were two deep trenches of cuts in Anderson's abdomen, and his left leg had been maimed to an extent, limiting his mobility.  
  
Anderson laughed to himself. There would be time for his wounds to heal later. A divine gift had guaranteed that. God, however, would make no such assurance to that which was standing before him, now only two meters away.  
  
"Before long now, Monster, the sun will rise and burn you into ash." Anderson closed his eyes, offering a silent prayer.  
  
"The sun? What harm might that do to me?"  
  
Anderson flinched. He opened his eyes slowly, querying the demon with them. He wondered for a moment if the vampire was playing a game.  
  
"Do you honestly think me a vampire?" The demon chuckled for a moment. "You are mistaken, Father."  
  
"Lying Bastard," Anderson spat, his temper flaring, "you are nothing more than a demon, and as a demon you will die with the light of day."  
  
"I am no demon, Father."  
  
Anderson gripped the hilts of his Holy Blades, crouching low so that he might use the muscle of his legs in order to spring forward. He still held his weapons crossed across his chest, slightly further away than he had previously. He smiled. "What are you, then?"  
  
Anderson lunged at the vampire, extending himself forward with a deftness and speed that he alone knew upon the earth, that his God had granted him. The distance was minimal now, and the blades formerly pulled behind Anderson's torso pushed themselves ahead nearly by instinct. They were flying at their target, possessed by a bloodlust that can barely be understood, barely can be imagined. They needed to kill. They required that blood run free along their surfaces. And they were closing in upon their target, all the strength Anderson had left within him directed into their course.  
  
As they propelled to centimeters from the demon's neck, both converging upon it, the demon raised his hands to each, the speed of its movement incomprehensible.  
  
The demon's hands gripped the tips of the blades, stopping them just against the flesh of his neck. Two tiny droplets of blood ran down where the blessed swords had halted. The demon began to push the blades back from his neck, both of the combatant's arms quivering with their efforts.  
  
A full eight centimeters from the demon's neck, the tools of death stopped being pushed backwards. Anderson and the demon before him had been locked in a stalemate. Both of them gritted their teeth, sweating. Either might collapse.  
  
Anderson smiled, straining through the pain in his torso. "You didn't answer my question, demon."  
  
The vampire blinked, and grinned. "I suppose I did not, Father."  
  
Anderson scowled. "Well?"  
  
He smiled, jaws clenched. "I, Father," the demon said through its teeth, "am a Dampeal."  
  
Anderson blinked twice, losing his concentration but for a moment, and his blades failed him. He staggered backwards, the dampeal pushing him freely. The pair scraped against the sides of the adjacent buildings. The dampeal gave him three blows, two in the cavernous wounds he had received earlier, and one just below the Paladin's heart. The Knight slumped to the ground, blood spurting from his mouth.  
  
The dampeal turned from Anderson, lifting his trench coat from the earth and draping it over his shoulders. "Go with God," he chuckled, and he walked out into the street.  
  
**  
Alucard and Seras found the mass of blood that was Anderson not fifteen minutes later. His regenerative powers had by now begun to heal his massive wounds, and the priest had apparently began to pray, kneeling in the middle of the alley.  
  
Alucard was the first to interrupt the Paladin. Tapping him lightly on the shoulder, he spoke slowly. "Catholic," he began, "surprised to see us?"  
  
The Paladin opened his eyes. "You're late, Demon."  
  
Alucard grinned.  
  
Anderson made no movement, sitting still, an almost mortified look plastered upon the normally manic face. Seras found the sight slightly unnerving.  
  
"He's gone, as you can see," the Priest said finally.  
  
Seras blinked several times in succession. "What. . . what did this to you?" She stared down at the pool of blood, and bit her palm. It looked somewhat. . . tasty.  
  
The Paladin looked at her blankly. "A devil."  
  
Alucard folded his arms across his chest. "You're defenseless, utterly pathetic. That devil of yours did quite a number on you."  
  
"Bastard," Anderson muttered.  
  
"I wonder why he even left you alive."  
  
Anderson was motionless, and he mumbled something close to "I don't know". He sighed. "Your wench wants to feed."  
  
Alucard frowned.  
  
"If I am to die tonight, it is God that has wished it."  
  
Alucard kneeled upon one knee, his arm draped across the other. "You've disgraced Iscariot on this night. I wouldn't take that from you for the world." He stood again, turning to Seras. "Police girl, it will be dawn soon."  
  
She nodded. She stepped next to Alucard, placing her hand upon his shoulder as he had told her to do before. "Ready when you are," she forced a smile.  
  
Alucard chuckled. "Until we meet again," he spoke proudly, and both he and Seras disappeared into shadow.  
  
"Until next time, magician." The servant of God shut his eyes again, and began another prayer.  
  
Next chapter: Sunlight Does Not Burn  
We meet the two wanderers in earnest for the first time, and Integra and Alucard have a nice little chat. Please Enjoy! 


	3. Sunlight Does Not Burn

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing, though I love it dearly. But I'm not earning any money for it, I swear! *looks around suspiciously* You can't prove a thing!  
  
A/N: Thanks again for all your kind reviews! I'm so glad you're enjoying all this!  
  
Chapter Three: Sunlight Does Not Burn  
  
Morning seemed exceptionally cool in London.  
  
The rosy fingered dawn stretched its grip up and over the countryside, and all the creatures of the night, all the demons and nightmares, were banished again to their sleep, to await the advent of darkness. This was true for them all, that is, excluding a pair of patrons in shabby coats.  
  
They strode along, side by side, ignoring the presence of the sun. They were unique, proud, for the light would never burn them. No matter how long they stayed in the sun, they would remain pale forever, their skin of a most ghastly hue.  
  
Still, it was not quite true that the sun would never hurt them. But it was less than likely they would ever be involved in such strenuous activity during the daylight hours that they would need to worry about that.  
  
They were half-breeds, Dampeals. They had no set place within the world, not in the light, not in the dark. They could go wherever they wished, whenever they wanted. But they were not free. Never free.  
  
The shortest of the pair looked up at her companion. "Kolya?" she beckoned.  
  
"What is it, Helen?" he answered.  
  
She looked up at him, curiosity etched upon her face. "Why didn't you kill him?"  
  
Kolya smiled. "Should I have killed him?"  
  
"He'll just come back looking for us, you know."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Then why?"  
  
Kolya gripped right hand in his left, and he peered into her eyes. "You don't like killing."  
  
She smiled, and pulled him close to her. "Thank you," she said. They walked, pressed up against one another, for a while thereafter, though time did not exist, really, for either of them.  
  
**  
Alucard had been chided for close to two hours now. He greatly disliked this side of his Master, and he honestly had been considering bowing to her, disappearing out of the room, and burning himself in the sun.  
  
If the cell had had one window he would have been spared this incessant shouting until the evening. If he had decided not to tell his Master about the Priest until the sun had set he would not have had to endure this mistreatment. It was quite annoying.  
  
Maybe if he had brought her a few cigars. . .  
  
"Alucard!" she shouted again, snapping him back to the present. "Tell me, now, why did you spare the Paladin?"  
  
He sighed. He could have ripped this woman before him to pieces had he wanted. He was ever so much older than she was as well, yet still she would question him. He decided he would play with her for a bit. "You wish that I murder a helpless man? I'll remember that tonight, Master,"  
  
She stiffened, her eyes resting upon Alucard with a spark of malice. "That dog treads upon Protestant soil."  
  
"So you want me to kill every Catholic in England then?" he licked his lips.  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "You were presented a prime opportunity to do away with Iscariot's premier soldier and you ignored it."  
  
"I don't go around killing dumbstruck puppies whenever I see them." He smiled, adding, "even when their blood is soaking the ground already."  
  
"You aren't answering my question, Alucard," she stated flatly. "Mercy has not once been a concern of yours when dealing with your enemy."  
  
Alucard's smirk faded. The fun, apparently, was over.  
  
"So why didn't you kill him?"  
  
The Vampire sighed. Explaining his fun was never an enjoyable task. "Don't you see it, Master? I was not the one who nearly killed him. Why should I have finished another's task without my own opportunity for amusement?"  
  
"That's not all there was to it."  
  
Alucard flashed his fangs in irritation. Only once in a great while would Integra ever win an argument with him, and this was quickly becoming one of those events. "There is another undead in this country that could have killed him. It is a thing of shame to Iscariot."  
  
"You wanted to wound their pride?" she shook her head in disgust.  
  
Alucard narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. His Master clearly had won, which was, perhaps, one of the most irritating things Alucard had experienced in a long while. "You humans are pitiful and ungrateful. I've killed ever so many of your enemies, but when I spare but one, a Priest no less, I earn your malice?"  
  
"You've earned my malice for many other things, Alucard."  
  
Alucard turned his back to his Master. "I am in need of sleep, Master."  
  
"I did not say you could leave."  
  
Alucard glared at her over his shoulder, and, slowly, a grin developed upon his face. "I will see you this evening, Master. Do enjoy the rest of your day. I'm sure you have so much business to attend to." He faded from the room.  
  
"Bastard," Integra muttered. It was going to be a long day.  
  
**  
The Dampeals had been strolling for close to three hours at this point. At long last, it seemed, the dead streets of London were bustling with sleepy pedestrians, marching as ants to their respective destinations, eager for caffeine and for the day to end. Within an hour, all those mindless amblers would be inside their cramped office buildings and workshops, and the streets again would be under populated.  
  
But these two would still be striding, for they had no exact destination, at the moment at least.  
  
At noon, the shorter of the two led the other into a small, grassy park, and sat down beneath a tree. She motioned for him to sit beside her. "Come on, you. Sit."  
  
Kolya did as he had been commanded, resting with his back against the trunk of the tree. He stretched his legs far out before him.  
  
She hit him playfully on his arm. "Hey, you," she chided in a voice half stern, half kidding, "There is to be no sleep! None!"  
  
Kolya groaned. "Five minutes, mom." He winked at her.  
  
Helen's mouth gaped wide open at the joke.  
  
"Just kidding, you know." He smirked, knowing he could not resist. "Mom."  
  
She slapped his arm again, with just a bit more force. She folded her arms across her chest. "I hate you," she muttered sulkily.  
  
He put his massive arm around her, pulling her close to him. "I hate you too," he kissed her forehead. "But I love you all the same."  
  
"Boy, we must be an odd sight," Helen began. "I mean, look at us! We're the shabbiest people in this park, easy. And you're a giant."  
  
Kolya raised his eyebrow, a silent suggestive gesture decorating his entire countenance.  
  
"Shut up," she looked at him sternly. "You're bad."  
  
"I know."  
  
"But you make me happy, so you can stay."  
  
He kissed her cheek in response. After a few moments in comfortable silence, Kolya's gaze drifted down into her eyes. There was something serious he wanted to discuss.  
  
"Yes, Love?" Her smile slowly became a slight, concerned frown.  
  
"When do we leave England, again?"  
  
She thought for a moment. "Hmmm, the boat will get here. . . two days from now, actually."  
  
Kolya smiled again. Two days and they would be done with The United Kingdom, with the whole of Europe, for that matter. Within a few weeks they would be calmly strolling across the United States, to settle wherever they pleased. Not that they really knew all that much about America, though. And in reality they had not yet decided that that would be where they would go, but it was a good starting point.  
  
The two were, in a sense, much akin to the American Immigrants of the early Twentieth Century. Ignorant of their destination, but going anyway because they knew that they had hope there, wherever it was.  
  
Helen smiled at him. "You know, we do have a bit of money left." She ran her fingers along Kolya's stomach.  
  
"We do?"  
  
"Yeah," she purred. "What do you say we find a nice cheap hotel?"  
  
Kolya sprang up instantly from his seated position, a silly grin upon his face. He held out his hand to her. "What're we waiting for?"  
  
**  
The youthful master of the Hellsing family sighed as Alucard strode into view. Mercifully, he had arrived much sooner than Integra had expected. She knew that the sun still was prominent in the sky, though she could not see it.  
  
"You're welcome, Master," he uttered before she could say a word.  
  
Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing felt the indignant anger rise up in her again. She relaxed, slowly, deciding to let Alucard have some breathing room, for now. She was, of course, somewhat grateful for his early return. It was uncharacteristically kind of the Vampire.  
  
"What is it you wish to discuss?" he asked.  
  
Integra smiled. "Did Anderson tell you what attacked him?"  
  
Alucard's eyes lit up under his glasses. "He didn't say it, Master, but the only word running through his mind was 'dampeal'."  
  
"A half breed?"  
  
"Precisely." Alucard let his arms fall at his side.  
  
"What do you think the Dampeal is doing in England?"  
  
Alucard frowned for a moment, in thought. "I can't say, really, what his purpose might be."  
  
"You don't know, then?"  
  
"No, I don't. Unless he came here to maim Anderson, which I wouldn't blame him for wanting to do."  
  
Integra frowned, considering her options for a moment. "I want you to find this half breed. Kill it."  
  
Alucard bowed gracefully to her, approval apparent in every instant of the gesture.  
  
Integra smiled. "In the name of God, Impure Souls of the Living Dead shall be banished into Eternal Damnation. Amen."  
  
Alucard flashed his fangs in delight. "As you wish, Master." He knew this night was destined to be enjoyable.  
  
A/N: A shorter chapter than usual, I know. Sorry. But the next one's going to be good! I swear! It should be up on Halloween!  
  
Next Chapter: The Perfect Night  
At long last, Alucard and Kolya meet face to face! I won't spoil anything more! Enjoy! 


	4. The Perfect Night

Disclaimer: I still don't own Hellsing, but I love the show (and the soundtrack). If you aren't poor like me, go buy it. Now. It's the most awesomest ever.  
  
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my friend Courtney, for whenever she decides to put down those damned Vampire Chronicles and read this. Hail to thee, my good friend! And a Happy Halloween to you all!  
  
Chapter Four: The Perfect Night  
  
"Stay here," he had said. She shuddered at the recollection. Most of the time, she would have been more than happy to listen to whatever word he might utter, but at this moment, Helen was starting to regret listening to him, for once.  
  
She was standing in the center of a deserted lot, the building formerly occupying the location having been razed some weeks previously. Surrounding it on three sides were warehouses and storage facilities. Little light was apparent, though the small fire in front of her did provide for some.  
  
Kolya had left her there, alone, for nearly two hours now. She swayed from her right to left slowly. Her nerves were slightly frayed, and the air carried with it an almost foul scent.  
  
There were no amblers strolling near the deserted grounds, though there would apparently be no use in anyone doing so in any event. After all, the only people who would be idly staying in such a location were, generally, the dregs of society. No one would bother her. Therefore, she was safe. Kolya must have known that.  
  
A small shudder came over her. Given another ten minutes she might be scared out of her wits. "Get your ass back here. Now," she whispered. The darkness itself was beginning to frighten her.  
  
**  
Alucard kneeled on the roof of a warehouse, overlooking a large, nearly deserted lot. Below him, shifting her weight nervously from right to left foot, arch to heel, repeating the pattern periodically, was a lean, starved looking woman. Pale and thin, she looked as if already life had fled from her blood, if ever life had lied therein.  
  
Alucard smirked, savoring that all too familiar tickling sensation as his upper lip slipped over his fangs. "If you were ever even alive. . . " he whispered.  
  
He studied her for a while, watching as she twisted nervously about. "She's waiting for someone," he thought.  
  
Shaking and staggering, the prey's eyes darted from the trash bonfire that lay just in front of her, to down the morose deserted grounds in which she would, quite soon now, meet a most unfortunate fate. She was a pitiful sight, dressed in an aging trench coat that very well might have been discarded a year or two ago. Her face was starved, the eyes far back in the bluing sockets. Her whole body spoke to mal-nourishment.  
  
"The shabby clothing is a ruse," Alucard judged. "It's meant to let her walk about unnoticed, disregarded like all the filth on the street. It's served its purpose extremely well, I'd think." He shook his head. "Too bad she has more experienced eyes examining her now."  
  
He grinned, baring his teeth in their entire splendor, and stood.  
  
**  
Kolya could sense that something was wrong. It was taking him longer than he had anticipated to meet with Helen, and his sense of direction was not working as well as it should have. In short, he was becoming quite lost.  
  
He also could somehow feel something dangerous approaching him, something that carried with it the very real possibility of hurt. Ignoring the feeling in his chest that screamed to move, Kolya stopped just where he had been walking. He closed his eyes. Beneath his lids, he could quite nearly see it, this thing he had every right to fear. A bright, blood red mass took shape before him, writhing and shaking. It moved as though it were driven underneath by bones and skin and sinew.  
  
And teeth.  
  
Kolya flinched as he took the full measure of what lay behind his eyelids. It appeared as a tall man would, standing full and proud, wearing a blood red coat. His eyes were covered by sunset tinted sunglasses. His teeth, however, were quite clearly visible. But they weren't teeth.  
  
They were fangs. The kind that could easily rip a man to pieces, the kind that Kolya had only seen in two species of beings: other dampeals, like himself, or full blooded vampires.  
  
Kolya's eyes opened wide as the realization hit.  
  
A vampire.  
  
Kolya broke into a sprint.  
  
**  
Alucard watched the prey below him, feeling something close to pity for her.  
  
She was a dampeal, a rather starved one at that. She was obviously weak, exhausted, beaten to the point of utter depravity. She must have been beautiful at some point, but now, all that Alucard could see was a starving, poor, decrepit being.  
  
The woman took another look about her, repeating the pattern she had made a thousand times with her feet, and her ears suddenly pricked. Her back tensed, and slowly, ever so painfully slow, she turned her head, and looked directly into Alucard's sunglasses.  
  
Silently, Alucard let himself float down from the roof of the warehouse and landed a few meters from where the woman was standing. He stood perfectly still, and smiled at her.  
  
"A lovely night, wouldn't you say?" He sneered.  
  
The woman lowered her eyes, sighing deeply as she did so. Her whole body drooped, and all that she seemed capable of saying was "Kolya. . ." slowly, over and again. She kept her eyes upon the ground for what seemed an eternity, and then suddenly, her eyes darted to meet those of Alucard. "What do you want?" She asked.  
  
Alucard laughed.  
  
"What," she repeated, this time with more force, "do you want?"  
  
"You made it a long way, didn't you, dampeal?" Alucard snickered.  
  
The woman cast her eyes down again, thinking. She knew hiding anything was useless now. She looked up again. "I haven't hurt anybody."  
  
"No, you haven't." He took a single step forward. "How pathetic. You're starving, aren't you?"  
  
"I never hurt anyone."  
  
"That doesn't really matter." Alucard sighed, letting his dissatisfaction be shown in his face. "You aren't worth the time. If it were up to me, you would go free tonight."  
  
"But it's not up to you, is it?"  
  
Alucard shook his head.  
  
"You're mighty respectful for a true vampire, aren't you?"  
  
This took Alucard by surprise. "I suppose."  
  
"I'll fight, no matter how hopeless it is."  
  
"You're weak. Starved." He took another step forward. "An object of pity."  
  
"What? 'Killing you'd be mercy', is that it?"  
  
"Something to that effect."  
  
"Then get on with it."  
  
"As you wish." Alucard reached into his coat, pulling out the silver modified 454 Casull that lay hidden there.  
  
"Mighty big gun. Compensating for something?"  
  
Alucard laughed.  
  
"That's not a no."  
  
Alucard reached into his coat with his left hand, then removed it, smiling. "If I showed you the other one, you'd really get suspicious."  
  
The dampeal smiled. "I don't suppose you believe in reincarnation, do you?"  
  
Alucard pulled the arm in which he held the Casull perpendicular to his chest, pointing it directly at the dampeal. "If such a thing exists I have not seen it." He stood there for a moment, waiting for the dampeal to say something more, and when he was sure that their exchange had ended, he squeezed the trigger, just a bit, but not enough to fire quite yet. "And I have lived a very long time."  
  
He fired twice, watching as the dampeal easily avoided the bullets. She had moved very quickly, settling near eight meters from her original position. Alucard pointed his weapon at her again, and, only slightly impressed by his prey, fired another two shots.  
  
**  
Kolya heard the second volley louder than he had the first. He was getting closer. Still, he knew he still had a way to go to reach the source of the shots.  
  
He knew who was staring down the barrel of the weapon, the loud boisterous thing, the best clue he had to the whereabouts of Helen. He ran towards it, with all the incredible speed that his birth had granted him, but he still feared that he might not reach his destination before Helen-  
  
"Before Helen dies," he screamed inwardly.  
  
What he would do when he arrived, he couldn't say. What he would do if the Vampire succeeded, he did not know. And he still couldn't figure out why the Vampire was using a human weapon, when he could more easily kill-  
  
"Fuck that," he muttered. The Vampire might as well use the weapons of mankind; the only difference it made was giving Kolya something to hear.  
  
Another two rounds echoed in the distance. "Good," he thought. "As long as she can still avoid them I have time." He was running out of energy, his legs aching, his breath coming in short gasps. He didn't think he could run any faster, but he had to, he had to try. He pushed on, and prayed he could make it in time.  
  
**  
"You're doing much better than I expected," Alucard shouted above another two shots.  
  
The Dampeal dodged these just as easily as she had the first. "Should I take that as a compliment?" She laughed, though Alucard could see she was tiring very quickly. Still, he was impressed, very much so at this point, by this woman's speed and maneuverability. But she couldn't last much longer.  
  
Alucard laughed as the empty clip fell out of the Casull, hitting the ground with a soft cling. He reached into his coat and pulled another out, shoving it quickly into the gun.  
  
"Jesus, how many of those do you have?" the Dampeal shouted.  
  
"This will do," Alucard muttered calmly. He pointed the gun at the Dampeal yet again, his eyes narrowing. "What is your name?"  
  
The Dampeal stood still a moment. "Helen," she declared. "Pleased to meet you!"  
  
"I am Alucard."  
  
He fired twice, watching carefully as the Dampeal, Helen, avoided the bullets, watching her eyes, her feet, the direction they would take. He fired again and again, until he had only one shot remaining, and then he disappeared.  
  
**  
Helen stopped dead in her tracks, wondering where in hell Alucard had gone. She looked around, desperately trying to see him, detect him in some way, for her only hope lie in that sight, that awareness. She couldn't avoid it if she couldn't see it coming.  
  
Her mind raced. Every shadow moved. Every light flickered and twisted into his image. She knew he had only one bullet left. But if she couldn't find him, he might as well have a hundred thousand and all the time in the world.  
  
Suddenly Alucard appeared right in front of her, close enough so that she could rest her hand against him, his weapon pressed firmly against her forehead. Shit, she thought. Her whole world had fallen in around her.  
  
"Only playing with me, eh?" she stuttered. "Just humoring me? Letting me buy some time?"  
  
"You're trying to buy some right now," Alucard chuckled.  
  
"You're point?"  
  
Alucard smiled. "You should be very-"  
  
"Proud? I did well? Is that it? You were playing with me. That's all."  
  
Alucard's finger tensed on the trigger. He did not wish to end the exchange just yet.  
  
Moments passed painfully slow, bit by bit, the sweat streaming down Helen's forehead. She was out of time, out of space.  
  
Out of luck.  
  
And suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Helen saw a figure scream out of the shadows.  
  
Kolya.  
  
He had come, just as he had promised. Just as she knew he would. He was running to her, to save her, and then he stopped.  
  
The shot finally came, and the Dampeal Helen was no more.  
  
**  
Kolya stopped running, his legs dead, his chest burning with the pain of exertion.  
  
He saw her, Helen. And there was nothing he could do for her. He was helpless. One final shot rang out, and Helen fell to the earth. Her body withered into dust.  
  
The man who had fired the shot kneeled to the large pile of dust, sifting through it with his fingers. "If there is such a thing as reincarnation, Helen," he whispered, "then I hope that it shall be your fate. Goodbye." Returning to his feet, he turned to face Kolya.  
  
Goodbye? What right do you have to say that? What have you done? Kolya stood straight, no longer panting. His eyes narrowed in silent rage.  
  
"You have something on your mind," Alucard said coolly. "Should I give you a moment?"  
  
Kolya clenched his jaw. His pulse pounded in his ears, but he ignored it.  
  
"You are Kolya, I would imagine." Alucard put the Casull back into his coat.  
  
"You. . ."  
  
"I understand that she was trying to buy time so you'd come to the rescue." He smiled. "A little late, aren't you?"  
  
Kolya clenched his fist.  
  
"She thought you could save her."  
  
The trash bonfire flickered behind them.  
  
"You failed."  
  
Kolya could feel his palms start to bleed. "Who are you?"  
  
"My name is Alucard."  
  
"Alucard?" Kolya let his fist relax, felt his whole body relax. He smiled. "I do so love a good anagram."  
  
Alucard smirked, letting the tips of his fangs protrude from his mouth. "Oh?"  
  
"Oh yes. Though I have heard a thousand and more claims to the name that you so blatantly misuse. None of them were anything." Kolya folded his arms across his chest.  
  
"So you aren't impressed? Even after I dispatched of her so easily?" Alucard laughed slowly, as if he did not find it amusing at all. "Or do you really care?"  
  
"What do you know?"  
  
"I can tell you her last thoughts upon the earth."  
  
Kolya raised his left eyebrow. "I doubt that."  
  
"You came, just as you promised." Alucard smiled broadly. "Just as I knew you would."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Alucard laughed. "Have I struck a nerve? You don't want to hear? Or you don't want to hear it from me?" He mimicked Kolya's pose, arms folded across the chest, feet planted firmly in the ground. "Whether you like my name or my taste in anagrams, the fact remains that I was better than Helen."  
  
"Don't you dare say her name."  
  
"I rather liked her too. It was such a bother doing away with her."  
  
"You don't deserve to say her name."  
  
"Still stuck on that?"  
  
Kolya disappeared just as Alucard had done before. Though it did not produce the same effect as that it had had on Helen. Alucard turned around, and just afterward Kolya appeared there, right where Alucard's back had been facing a moment before. Alucard gripped Kolya by the chin, looking at him as if he were about to slap him across the face. "I'm too old for that."  
  
Kolya was taken aback.  
  
"You honestly thought I'd be taken by surprise by such a predictable action?" Alucard sighed. "You don't respect Helen's ability that much, do you?"  
  
Kolya shut his eyes and screamed, at which Alucard forcefully shoved Kolya's chin upward, closing his mouth. "Screaming isn't going to do you any good. You have to think now. Say to yourself, 'how can I get myself out of this?' Stop making a mockery of her existence."  
  
A mockery? What gives you the right to say that?  
  
"You still aren't thinking. Is this how you want it to end?" Alucard frowned. "And here I thought you were some kind of avenger. You don't deserve to live." He thought for a moment.  
  
Now what? What else do you want to say? Hmmm?  
  
Alucard released Kolya, and reached into his coat. "You aren't going to last to remember her."  
  
Kolya shook his head. He sighed deeply, then looked at Alucard's coat. "The first gun's out of ammunition. You took at least four clips bringing Helen down. There's a larger gun in your coat still, isn't there?"  
  
Alucard smiled.  
  
**  
Seras hated being left out of the loop, which ironically seemed to be part of her job now. "Where is my Master?" She was worried. She wandered through the streets of London, deep in thought. It was four o'clock in the morning. At best, both she and Alucard, assuming he were even in London, had maybe two hours of darkness left. "Of course, with Master that's a big assumption sometimes." She sighed.  
  
She was wearing a short sleeved black midriff shirt, over which was a dark gray vest, also without sleeves. She had on khaki colored pants, and around her neck was a black ribbon choker.  
  
The streets were, of course, deserted this early in the morning, which would have been a cause for concern for Seras a year ago. But now, after her transformation into a member of the undead, she seemed to prefer the streets as they were now. It, at the very least, gave her space away from the temptations that came with what she now was.  
  
Seras continued walking, head down, eyes squarely fixed upon her shoes. Like her ensemble, they too were a morose shade of gray. She smiled. "What a pretty little picture I must be, a bundle of confused looking gray." She tried to think of the last time she had thought of herself as pretty. It wasn't coming to her.  
  
Of course, the nagging sensation in the back of her mind that she was filthy had ebbed down considerably. She thought, for a moment, about that too. "It's not like it was, I think. . . I mean. . . well, I just. . . I just don't feel ashamed of it anymore." Which was a good thing, she decided. She was a vampire, a true one, and to some extent she was proud of that. She wasn't like those artificial freak things; no, she was better. Cut from a better cloth.  
  
Seras smiled, turned upon her heel, and marched back homeward.  
  
**  
Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing sat brooding in the silence of her cell. It was early morning. The sun, though not yet threatening the horizon, could not be far from doing so. The mighty leader of Hellsing was worried about the sun. It did not frighten her, of course; the light could not even reach her where she was, and it could not hurt her anyway.  
  
But it could hurt Alucard, she thought. Vampires burn in daylight, she reminded herself again. It was a fairly obvious point. Normally, this did not concern Integra, but today, she knew precisely what Alucard was doing.  
  
She had sent him on the mission, told him to find whatever it was that Anderson had hinted at. If he were to die, it would rest squarely on the shoulders of Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing. "Like always," she thought. "I'm always responsible when an honorable man dies in the Hellsing Organization. They were all under my charge." Of course, at the moment the Hellsing Organization did not exist, seemingly bound as it was, along with Integra herself, in her small green mortar brick cell. The whole future of it was uncertain, and the only control she had over any of the former membership lie in Alucard, and, through him, Seras Victoria.  
  
She sighed, looking down at her hands cuffed with leather. She had been powerful, once, a leader of men and women, commander of the undead as well as the living, all for Queen and Country. And look where it had gotten her. All her efforts, and all she had to show for it was what wound around her wrist.  
  
She felt miserable, alone, betrayed. Where was that damn Vampire anyway? "If he were to stride in here right this instant I swear I'd throw my chair right-"  
  
A knock at the door interrupted Integra's musing. She considered for a moment. Was it Alucard? No, he never had the sense to knock. It wasn't the guards; they only opened the door when her meals were served to her. Then who in the world would want to see her, at this hour especially?  
  
"It's me, Sir Integra," a familiar voice stated calmly from behind the door. "I've come with a message."  
  
**  
Alucard chuckled as the Dampeal sprinted toward him again. He was far more aggressive than the other, Alucard noticed, and also seemingly a thousand times more powerful. It was fairly obvious that this dampeal had not been starved in recent times.  
  
"I can see why she thought you would save her!" He shouted, further prodding and pushing the Dampeal. He had been wounding the Dampeal's pride with references to Helen for an hour and a half now, though it seemed by this point they no longer had much of an effect upon the Dampeal.  
  
"It will be daylight soon, Vampire!" the Dampeal retorted. "And last I checked, your kind couldn't live in the light of day!" He lunged past Alucard, sweeping his legs under the Vampire, attempting to trip him.  
  
Alucard leapt into the air, his coat swirling about him, and he laughed heartily. "Do you think you're going to last to the hour of sunrise with such tactics?" He pointed the 13mm Jackal just ahead of the Dampeal, and fired the last of the rounds in the clip.  
  
The shot caught the Dampeal just below the shoulder. He stopped, and looked directly into Alucard's eyes, which by now had last the sunglasses that had adorned them previously.  
  
Alucard smirked. "Let's review the score, shall we?" He let the empty clip fall from the Jackal. "Thus far, that's four hits for me." He pulled another clip from his coat and shoved it into the gun. "Two in your left shoulder, one grazing your cheek, and one in your calf." His smirk widened. "At least I hope it was your calf."  
  
The Dampeal frowned. "What about me?"  
  
"Well, you took my hat, if that makes you feel better."  
  
"And the sunglasses," the Dampeal chided.  
  
"Both of which I will be wanting back." Alucard settled back upon the ground.  
  
"If you can take them before sunrise, by all means." The Dampeal charged toward Alucard again.  
  
"It's impressive," Alucard noted. "He hasn't lost a step, regardless of how many bullets I've put in him." Alucard smiled broadly. It wasn't often that an opponent impressed him.  
  
Another few minutes passed with the Dampeal charging, avoiding Alucard's bullets, and charging again. Amazingly, Alucard did not land another shot, and he had even been caught by surprise by the Dampeal's deftness. Still, it was fairly apparent who had the upper hand.  
  
Alucard lifted the Jackal, aiming carefully at the Dampeal's elbow. A thought dawned on him. "Tell me, Dampeal, can you regenerate your limbs?"  
  
"What-?" he began as Alucard pulled the trigger, and the Dampeal, miraculously, avoided the shot. "That's rude of you."  
  
Alucard looked a bit shocked. He didn't expect the Dampeal to avoid the bullet so easily. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but shut it again slowly. He knew that the sun would rise very soon, and, much to his annoyance, his better judgement took precedence. "Not bad, Dampeal. But as you have so politely pointed out, the night is close to its end."  
  
The Dampeal tensed. "You can't leave."  
  
Alucard chuckled. "Why not?"  
  
"I'm not through with you yet."  
  
Alucard threw his head back and howled with laughter. "You're not through, eh?" He sighed, letting his face take on a more serious demeanor. "I don't have the time to finish-"  
  
"Finish me off?" the Dampeal interrupted. "You were the one playing around, and now you have to go?" The Dampeal flashed his fangs in rage. "First, tell me something, Alucard," he disappeared again, but this time Alucard did not know where he would appear.  
  
For a moment, the only movement in the air was the low flicker of the trash fire. All else was still, and for the first time in a very, very long time, Alucard felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.  
  
He turned around, and as he did so, he heard a blaring crack.  
  
The Dampeal had appeared behind him, where he had been facing the moment before. "Can you regenerate your limbs?" he asked. He had ripped Alucard's right arm from the socket, all of it. He threw it to the ground, and turned his back to Alucard. "'Till next time, Alucard," he snorted in disrespect, and walked out into the street, straightening out his clothes.  
  
Alucard looked at his severed arm with disgust. The Jackal was still clutched in its hand. Alucard closed his eyes, tensed his entire body, and the arm flew back into place. He sighed, a sudden thrill rolling up along his spine.  
  
Smiling, he disappeared into the shadows.  
  
A/N: As always, thanks for your reviews. I do appreciate them all.  
  
Next Chapter: Shattered Dream  
Kolya's history revealed, in depth, Alucard and Integra debrief, and an old guest makes his first appearance. I won't be spoiling the surprise, but feel free to guess. You're probably right. 


	5. Shattered Dream

Disclaimer: Hellsing is Kohta Hirano's wonderful product, not mine, as always.  
  
A/N: My apologies for the rather extreme hiatus. I offer no excuse, but I hope that you shall enjoy the continuation of this story. Please review!  
  
Chapter Five: Shattered Dream  
  
Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing could not force herself to suppress the smile that now played along the corners of her lips. Before her reclining figure stood the form of the Angel of Death, Walter C. Dornez, a man without equal among men. She stood, folding her hands in front of her, silently regarding the aging Hellsing servant.  
  
After a moment, Integra broke this self-imposed silence. "You have a message for me, Walter?"  
  
"I do, Sir Integra," Hellsing's retainer replied. "Regarding your release from your current, undeserved detention."  
  
Integra's countenance drifted from its normal cool, calculating calm to slight surprise. She stayed silent, allowing her thoughts to drift for a moment, then spoke. "Walter, how did this come about?"  
  
"The Round Table has been the site of much confusion as of late, Sir Integra. Several of its members have felt it their responsibility to assume the duties that had been the birthright of Hellsing. The SAS is in shambles. Suffice it to say that, at present, the future is quite uncertain."  
  
"Then why have I been released, Walter?"  
  
"I suspect that the full story will best wait for more comfortable surroundings, Sir Integra," he turned his attention to the door. "If you would be so kind, sir" he began, motioning for the guard standing beside the door to enter, "as to remove Sir Integra's bindings?"  
  
The young man did as he had been commanded, removing the white leather cuffs from Integra's hands and returning to his post.  
  
Walter smiled. "A car is waiting for us outside. Please follow me," he said, bowing before her. "We have much to discuss."  
  
"We do, Walter."  
  
Grinning, the young Master of Hellsing exited the mortar-brick cell, her retainer following close behind.

* * *

"Do you know what a Dampeal is, Alexander?" Father Enrico Maxwell inquired of his ace agent. The brooding form of Iscariot's Head sat at his desk, leaning back, arms folded, his expression one of concealed anger.  
  
The Paladin stood at attention before Maxwell, a coy grin developing upon his face. "A half breed, sir," he muttered. "The mongrel, unholy child of a human and a monster."  
  
"And how are these creatures born, do you suppose?"  
  
Anderson scoffed at the all-too obvious question. "Through the sin of their parents, a union of the flesh, selfish, disgusting."  
  
Enrico Maxwell shook his head disdainfully. "Not quite, my friend." He stood slowly, tracing his hand along the contours of his desk.  
  
The Holy Knight's grin disappeared, struck down by this unexpected response. "How then, Father Maxwell, do these monstrosities come to desecrate the earth?"  
  
Maxwell sighed. "Experiment, Anderson. Trial and error." Noting that his ace seemingly did not comprehend the answer, Maxwell continued. "Surely you are not surprised? Experiment has been the refuge of heretics for longer than either of us have lived. Even Hellsing's pet vampire is the product of a century's worth of genetic tampering."  
  
"Aye, that he is."  
  
"You yourself have been altered, blessed with regenerative abilities beyond any mortal being." Maxwell grinned. "Though this alteration is but the Gift of God for one of his most dedicated servants."  
  
Anderson nodded approvingly. However, his concerns had yet to meet full amelioration. "What do you know of the Dampeal that I fought in England?"  
  
"I know quite a bit, Anderson. It's part of my duty as the leader of Iscariot." Maxwell picked up a file from atop his desk, opening it casually. He perused the contents momentarily before letting his eyes drift to meet those of Anderson. "Where would you like me to start?"  
  
Anderson suppressed a growl. There were times when the childishness of his superior became an annoyance. "The beginning, sir." He folded his arms. "I want to know all that I can about this filth."  
  
"For starters," Maxwell began, "you are familiar with the Cold War, I suspect? Between the Americans and the now defunct Soviet Union?"  
  
Anderson nodded, a slight tremor of irritation running through him.  
  
"Good. Then I do not need to explain the subtle nuances of the Containment Policy, of the point and counterpoint game played by the opposing sides? It really is a fascinating history-"  
  
"-I am familiar with the concept," Anderson interrupted.  
  
"Excellent. Now, I'm sure that you would fully understand the desires, of both sides, of any power really, to create increasingly powerful engines of destruction? Good. It was that desire that fueled the nuclear arms-race, the space race, the moon landings; it was that powerful, competitive desire that even spurred the development of more, shall we say, underhanded and inhuman weapons programs. Their installations littered the landscape of Europe." Maxwell set the file folder down upon his desk, inviting Anderson to gaze upon it. "This is an aerial photo of such a facility, taken in the summer of 1972, in Lucenec, Slovakia, a few miles north of the Hungarian border. This is the facility where the dampeal you encountered was engineered."  
  
Anderson stared blankly at the photo for a moment. It appeared as though it were a bunker, surrounded by no fence, the terrain as unremarkable as could be; a very sparse arrangement of trees surrounded it on all sides. No roads led to the building, and no entrance was apparent.  
  
Maxwell moved the photo aside, replacing it with another. "This photo is of the same location, taken in the winter of 1976. You'll notice that the locale has changed, since the bunker is no longer visible."  
  
"It was removed?"  
  
"Theoretically it was part of an Arms Reduction Treaty agreed upon by the Americans and Soviets during the Nixon Administration, but the reality is that it would have been shut down anyway."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because, for the most part," Maxwell sighed, "the research done at that facility proved entirely useless."

* * *

Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing scowled as her retainer informed her of the ceaseless altercations between the members of the Round Table. It had become apparent, in the course of Walter's briefing, that nearly all of the twelve organization's leaders were engaged in pointless squabble, their objectives the expansion of their own associations. Integra's displeasure resonated throughout the confines of the Rolls Royce.  
  
"Sir Penwood, especially," Walter continued, "has been against your release. It would seem as though he would rather the SAS take control of Hellsing's duties, though many of their soldiers were killed in the last freak attack. He is certainly your most active detractor."  
  
Integra shrugged. "Sir Penwood always has been in vehement opposition of the Hellsing Organization. This strife that he wishes now to perpetrate is no different than that which he has offered before."  
  
Walter shook his head. "I wish it were so, Sir Integra. But it would seem as though he has mustered some support amongst the other Round Table Members."  
  
"That would be the reason for my exceedingly lengthy imprisonment, I assume." Integra's scowl deepened.  
  
"Exactly. It was only recently, however," Walter grinned, for the first time in his narration, "that Sir Irons had decided to press his views concerning this issue."  
  
"And his position, Walter?"  
  
"He believes that Sir Penwood only desires more influence than what already he possesses, and that the Missions of the Round Table are negatively affected by the situation." Walter chuckled softly. "Which, I suspect, is exactly what you yourself have been thinking during this entire discussion."  
  
"And it was Sir Irons that has granted my release?"  
  
"It was."  
  
"And what of the Hellsing Organization, Walter?"  
  
Walter sighed. "Tomorrow the Twelve will convene to decide its fate. You will, of course, be expected to testify before them."  
  
"Very well, Walter." She smiled warmly at him. "It's good to see you again."  
  
Walter nodded. "We'll be home soon, Sir Integra."  
  
The Rolls Royce rolled down the parkway, its occupants silent, the daylight all too clear through its tinted windows.

* * *

"A failure, you say?" Alexander Anderson laughed heartily. "What do you call that thing that I fought then?"  
  
Maxwell sighed, carefully choosing his words. "The dampeal with which you fought, Alexander," his brows narrowed, "was a rarity."  
  
"There were two of those 'rarities', Sir." Anderson frowned.  
  
"Yes, there were." Maxwell returned to his seat, and gracefully lowered himself into the chair. "But the other, as you know, was a weakling. What you cannot guess, however, is why this is so."  
  
Anderson raised an eyebrow at Iscariot's Director. "Go on."  
  
"The second Dampeal," Maxwell brightened, "was dying."  
  
"How's that?"  
  
Maxwell's voice grew cheerful. "You see, Alexander, the research done at the Lucenec facility proved useless because of the very nature of their experimentation. The Heathens found that, as they attempted to cross the human and vampiric genetic material, it nearly always broke down at the cellular level." He laughed suddenly. "What they did not surmise was that this was due to the vampiric cells themselves!" Maxwell continued gleefully. "An Undead's cells, as you know, are dependant upon the continual ingestion of living cells. When mixed with human cells, the genetic material of the Undead merely continued this process."  
  
Anderson chuckled. "The vile experiments cannibalized themselves, did they?"  
  
"Precisely. No matter how far they came with their experiments, the experiments ripped themselves apart. The dead tissue devoured the living." Maxwell shook his head. "The weaker dampeal was undoubtedly undergoing the same process."  
  
"And the other? The one I fought?"  
  
"I suspect that the same will eventually happen to him, but it seems that he has thus far avoided it."  
  
Anderson smiled. "It is because he feeds upon human flesh."  
  
Maxwell nodded. "That would make sense. After all, if he were to give the Undead DNA within the sustenance it required, there would be no reason for it to turn inward and devour the human side of him."  
  
"It explains more than just that."  
  
Maxwell glanced upward at his ace inquiringly. "Oh?"  
  
"It explains the Dampeal's formidable strength." Anderson spoke softly, satisfied at his deduction. "The Dampeal gains strength with every human that he kills. He is like any other vampire in this way."  
  
Maxwell smirked, nodding. "Which is why he should be destroyed."  
  
"Aye," Anderson agreed. And, he surmised, it was of course his duty to do just that. "I have another question concerning this Dampeal, Sir."  
  
Maxwell smiled warmly at his ace. "What would that be?"  
  
"What was he doing in England?"  
  
Iscariot's head returned to his file-folder. "Immediately after the Lucenec site was removed, we suspect that whatever few successes that had been developed, including the two Dampeals that you encountered, were moved to Hungary. They were then quartered in a small village east of the capital, where they were eventually forgotten by the Soviet government. When the Soviet Union fell, of course, we regained our dominion in those nations formally under its influence. Which, naturally, means that we were able to extinguish the demon threats that had developed. This includes our poor Dampeal's home village."  
  
"But they escaped."  
  
"Regrettably, yes. And they made their way to England, hoping that from there they could escape to the United States. After that, they would potentially be free from our or anyone's reach." Maxwell slumped. "However, it would seem as though Hellsing's pets have prevented this escape."  
  
Anderson cringed at the thought. He did not wish to think that the pet abomination of Hellsing had succeeded where he had failed. "It should not be so," he thought. "That demon Alucard has no right to do what is the God- given duty of Iscariot."  
  
Maxwell smiled coyly. "I have another assignment for you, Alexander."  
  
Anderson beamed. "Of course, Father Maxwell."

* * *

Night slowly returned to the Hellsing Manor, the sunlight disappearing. The house appeared in the dark as though it were a fortress. It had, of course, been rebuilt, its numerous injuries mended. It once again stood proudly against the backdrop of the black sky.  
  
Alucard grinned, savoring the familiar sight. Within the house his master, the indomitable Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing, waited anxiously for his return. Alucard's grin widened at the thought. Her concern was, of course, unwarranted, and Alucard would find their discourse this evening quite pleasurable for this fact alone.  
  
Alucard casually strolled through the iron gates meant to bar the entrance of peasants and fools. Similarly he melted through the very walls of the Hellsing Estate itself, and, quite suddenly, he disappeared inside the expansive mansion.  
  
It was as though his feet had never touched the estate's grounds.

* * *

Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing waited, exhausted, for Alucard's return. It had been nearly forty-one hours since last she had slept; yet she staunchly refused to drift off into slumber.  
  
Her ears pricked as she heard the slight shudder of the walls which were the normal result of the vampire's appearance. "Hello, Alucard," she said coolly.  
  
"Good evening to you, Miss Hellsing," the vampire cooed. Alucard tipped his hat to her. He stood, motionless, awaiting her response.  
  
"Well, Alucard?" Integra asked suddenly. "What of your mission?"  
  
Alucard grinned. "It was not very kind of you, Master, to leave your cell without notice." He folded his arms, pretending to sulk.  
  
"You knew I had moved the instant that it was done, Alucard. There's no way you could not have."  
  
Alucard chuckled. "And there's no way that you could not have known that I had survived my encounter, yet still you awaited my return with trepidation." He looked at her, the superiority of his stare evident even through his sunglasses. "You were worried about me."  
  
"Tell me what happened, Alucard."  
  
"Existence is a confounding thing, Master. At every turn, humans develop new attachments, new worries and concerns that drive them. It is as though the thrill of life were not enough to satisfy their hungers. Of course, the taste of life is enough to satisfy me." He paused. "What of you, Master?"  
  
"We're not talking about that, Alucard."  
  
"I have heard all too many excuses and confessions in these centuries I have enjoyed. I have listened to the groans of the dying, lamentations for these attachments and worries. It never changes." Alucard shook his head. "I took the dampeal's attachment, took from him the thing he most cherished."  
  
"But you didn't kill him, I take it?"  
  
Alucard nodded. "Humans have an annoying predisposition to shrivel and die without that for which they care. I now wish to see if the same is true of this creature."  
  
"What are you hoping will happen, Alucard?" Integra noiselessly exhaled another puff of smoke.  
  
Alucard turned from her, striding slowly to her father's portrait. "You did not break with your father's death." For respect of both Integra and her father, Alucard avoided exiting through the portrait, instead stepping aside, and passing through the wall.  
  
Within her mind, Integra could only here the departing words of her servant: "It is a trait I saw in him as well."  
  
Glancing at the portrait of her father, Integra extinguished her cigar, and nodded to sleep at her desk.  
  
Next Chapter: Restoration of Glory  
  
The Round Table convenes, Kolya returns to the narrative (Seras too! Huzzah!) and Father Anderson is sent on his 'mission'. 


End file.
